


The Hybrid, Reborn

by Papapaldi



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Reunions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-05 15:05:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16813066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papapaldi/pseuds/Papapaldi
Summary: “Bit of a long story involving a quantum ghost raven and a bunch of pricks in fancy hats, rather not get into it.”The Doctor has finally managed to track down Clara's TARDIS and decides to pay her a long-awaited visit (with support from her new friends, she's very nervous, you see)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Don't really know where this is going to go, I just wanted to write Clara meeting 13 :)

“Oh my stars! I’ve found it!”

“Found what?” Yaz asked, jumping at the Doctor’s sudden loud exclamation. The four of them – team TARDIS, as the Doctor insisted on calling them – had been going about their business waiting for the Doctor to calibrate their course for wherever and whenever she had in mind when she’d suddenly dropped what she was doing to examine one of the nearby screens. 

“I found it!” She says again. Yaz peers over the Doctor’s shoulder at the alert flashing on the screen. It’s indecipherable. A mass of strange, interwoven circular symbols scroll across the screen as the Doctor taps mechanisms on the console interface seemingly at random. Ryan and Graham come to stand by her side, and the three of them share a confused glance. They have the execution down to an art. 

The Doctor rounds on them, face brimming with excitement. “I’ve found it!” She reiterates, scarcely able to contain herself. 

“You do realise you’re being very vague,” Graham says, dryly, “you need to actually explain what you’re thinking for other people to understand it.”

“No, no you don’t understand,” she dismisses, pointing to the screen.

“You’re right, I really don’t.” She seems to ignore his sarcastic comment. 

The Doctor stares, wide-eyed, at the screen. “I’ve found it.” Graham rolls his eyes, while Yaz and Ryan share a laugh.

The Doctor turns to them, eyes still alive with that manic glee. She chuckles along, as if she’s in on the joke. “Let’s go right away!” The engines whirr to life, and Yaz feels the familiar twist of nausea as they begin to hurtle through the time vortex. The three of them are almost swept off their feet as the Doctor continues to work the console, ringing bells and turning dials – even bashing the surface with a small mallet that she pulls out of her pocket without so much as an explanatory remark. The journey only lasted a moment. The engines wheezed and churned around them as the ship came to a halt, and the three of them looked expectantly towards its unreliable pilot. 

“Here we are!” She chirped, checking the screen once again, eyes gliding over those strange circular patterns. 

“And where is here, dare I ask?” Graham sighed. 

“Utah, Earth, I assume you know it?” They nodded, curious. “I’ve had the TARDIS scanning for traces of others of its kind out there in the universe, it’s hard to track something across time and space you know, especially when they don’t want to be found.” She’s rambling – as she so often did. The three just have to listen and hope that her technobabble anecdote will reach a conclusion. “Luckily, I’d already been inside that TARDIS, so I was able to create a sort of link between them –“ she gestures vaguely, searching for the right words – “it’s a telepathic thing,” she nods, as if this is explanation enough. Yaz opens her mouth to pry, but Graham puts up his hand in warning, best to just let her get on with it or they’d be here forever. “So I was able to link into the telepathic circuits of this TARDIS so I could use the other one to get back to this one back when I was using it, but –“ she declares, as if revealing the linchpin of a masterful (and presumably sensical) plan – “the connection still exists, so I can still access it. Mind, that TARDIS has been on the run, it’s got every kind of protection against tracking and forced vortex displacement imaginable. But,” she leans in towards them, raising an eyebrow in sly pride, “I’ve finally found it.” 

“And – what – you need another time machine do you?” Graham asks. 

“No, not the ship,” she grins, “I’m here for the pilot.”

“Is it another one of your people?” Yaz asks, “thought you said they were gone.” The Doctor had told them as much, and seemed adamant not to elaborate. 

“Well, not exactly,” she considers, But no, not one of them, and thank goodness for that,” she chuckles. “It’s a friend of mine – at least, it should be.” She stares past them, back into a past only she can see. “I’ve been looking for her for a long time, and now that I’m here I…” she trails off, face falling. “Well I’m nervous, actually…” she looks back at the screen, suddenly hesitant. She reaches for the TARDIS controls again, “maybe we should go,” she blurts out. 

“What?” Ryan exclaims.

“No,” Graham added, “whoever this is, you were so excited earlier, what changed?”

“Things are... messy,” she says, jumping down from the raised platform ringing the console, pacing in small, frantic circles on the deck below. “I’m afraid I left her rather worse for wear, and by worse for wear I mean dead.” 

“What!” Yaz cries, sharing yet another confused glance with her companions. 

“Bit of a long story involving a quantum ghost raven and a bunch of pricks in fancy hats, rather not get into it.” The words tumble rapidly, as they so often do when the Doctor gets nervous. “But, no, you’re right, I need to do this,” she shrugs, standing up straight. She exhales, shaking her head and arms as if to wring out the nerves. “Right,” she claps, “stay here everyone, shouldn’t be long.” She makes her way briskly to the door, as if afraid she would change her mind at any moment. “Ooh!” She exclaims, stopping just before the door, “I could grab some chips, you humans love chips.”

“Doctor,” Graham warns, giving her a knowing look, “stalling.”

She nods, “Yeah. Alright, here I go… out there… by myself…” she gulps, reaching towards the door handle. She drops her arm to her side and rounds on them. “Anyone fancy a walk?”

Ryan bursts out laughing. “You just told us to stay here,” he chuckles. Yaz doesn’t think she’s ever seen the Doctor so nervous – even when facing down hoards of deadly aliens. 

“Well,” the Doctor shrugs, “that would be best, if it weren’t for one little thing.”

“And what’s that?” Graham asks, smirking.

She sighs, looking up at them pleadingly. “I’m incredibly nervous.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara gets a surprise from a very excited (and clingy) woman that she's never seen before in her life.

Clara Oswald was finishing the washing up when the bell rang. It seldom did so, seeing as the diner rarely saw any customers. It was hard to establish a reputable business when the venue was phasing through time and space. Not just one customer either, she noted, but four. This really was her lucky day. Two men and two women; all of them in far too many layers for the desert heat outside. She didn’t need the money, but it was always fun to participate in those old, mundane traditions that to her had become like fantasy, living a dream of an old life left behind. 

She turned off the faucet and dried her hands hurriedly, grabbing her notebook and pen, and walking around the side of the counter and out to the shop floor. She smiled warmly at the newcomers, affixing her pen behind her ear. “Welcome, are you looking to dine in today?” Three of the newcomers looked to each other, seeming a little confused.  
“Err, Yeah we’ll dine in thanks, I think,” the older of the two men said, glancing expectantly at a woman who seemed the odd one out of the bunch. She’d bee the odd one out anywhere - Clara remarked - judging by the strange fashion sense; billowing grey coat, high waisted culottes and bright yellow suspenders. It was only then, with her attention drawn towards the woman, that Clara noticed her expression. The woman was staring right at her, an expression of utmost intensity and disbelief. She was taken aback - she’d never seen this woman in her life.

“Are you alright ma’am?” She inquired politely. The other three customer looked to the fourth with concern. The woman’s face lit up, a brilliant smile spreading across her face. She walked towards Clara and said “oh I’m more than alright, Clara, I’m brilliant.” Before she could wonder how the woman knew her name, she had taken the last few paces at a run and flung her arms around Clara with unnecessary enthusiasm. Clara was too shocked to pull away, and the other three people looked on with mild confusion and concern. 

“Anyone else think we might’ve got the wrong person?” the older man muttered. 

“I really hope we don’t have to drag her away,” the younger replied. 

“Oh Clara, the woman clutching her sighed, almost sobbing, “I’m so sorry, I’ve missed you so much.”

“Err,” she chuckled nervously, “sorry, have we met,” she squirms out of their grasp and tries to place the face of the woman who is still beaming at her expectantly. Now that she comes to think of it, she does seem familiar somehow. “My life’s a little... complicated. Sometimes things don’t happen in the right order.”

The other woman looks confused for a moment, until a realisation dawns on her, with all the over-exaggerated theatrics of a cartoon light-bulb moment. “Oh, right!” She exclaims, “the face!” Her eyes are wide beyond belief, and Clara tries and fails to hide her confusion. “Sorry, I forgot about that for a second there, got a little carried away.” She grabbed Clara’s hands in her own and pressed them gently to each side of her face before she could protest. “It’s me, Clara,” she grins, “my memories... they came back when I regenerated.” Clara’s face went slack, her hands falling away from the woman’s face. She stepped back instinctively, mind racing at a breakneck pace. 

Worry flashed in the woman’s eyes. “You can see me, can’t you?” she asked, stepping closer, “Clara it’s me, it’s the D-“

“Shut up.” She murmured, throwing her arms around the Doctor and burying her face in her shoulder. 

“I-“ the Doctor stammered.

“I said shut up, you stupid old man.” Her voice was muffled against the Doctor’s jacket - that abysmal outfit - she should have known. 

“Hey,” the Doctor said softly, putting her arms around Clara’s shoulders, a hand protectively over her head, “I’m pretty sure you can’t call me that anymore.”

“I’ll call you what I like.” She felt tears sting her eyes. 

After a moment of shared silence, the Doctor remarked; “you’ve gotten taller.” 

“No,” Clara said, exasperated, “no I haven’t, you’ve just shrunk.” 

“Oh, right, that makes more sense.” The Doctor was trying to fill the moment stupid remakes, just like they always did. Spurt nonsense to silence all those nagging thoughts and emotions. “So, what do you think?” She asked, pulling away a little and giving a shrug to indicate her new body.

Clara smirked. “I think you should refer me to your dermatologist,” she looked up at the Doctor, grinning. 

“Well I could flood your cells with regeneration energy, but it would burn up your internal organs!” she chuckled nervously.

“And you see, that’s a perfect example of what not to say to someone, ever. You’re completely hopeless.” She sighed, studying the Doctor’s new (and rather pretty) face. The Doctor’s short cropped hair and round dark eyes reminded her of herself, in a way. The northern accent seemed a similar sort of coincidence, though the doctor seemed to have gone for something a little more extreme. “So,” she sighed, “you going to introduce me,” she indicated towards the three other customers that, admittedly, had escaped Clara’s notice for a while there. The younger man raised a hand in a nervous wave - they clearly hadn’t been briefed on the situation.

“Right,” she turned to face her friends. “Gang, this is Clara.” Clara waved at them, marvelling again at the way that the Doctor continues to find solace in new friends, in fresh starts. “Clara, this is Ryan,” the Doctor indicated the younger man, tall and broad-shouldered with dark brown skin. He gave her yet another nervous half-wave, thinking better of it midway and instead rubbing his palm over the back of his neck in a mock-casual manner. “Graham,” she continued, pointing to the older man with a wide, kind smile and hands buried deep in his jacket pockets, “and Yaz,” she finished, indicating a young woman with long dark hair spun into intricate braids, who smiled at Clara with ill-hidden, tolerant jealousy, chin turned up as if to prove herself. 

The Doctor leant in towards Clara, beaming with pride, “I’ve got a whole team now, look at that!” She murmured. 

“Yeah, good on you,” she replied, raising an eyebrow, “and you can manage that many at once without those conversation cards I wrote out for you?” 

The Doctor scoffed in mock-offence. “I’ll have you know, I’m much better at being normal now. I even did small talk with regular humans, didn’t I team?” 

“Yeah,” Ryan replied, “and it was hilarious.” He nudged Yaz gently, both of them sharing a laugh. 

“Ok, sure,” the Doctor retorted, trying not to sound embarrassed. “Yeah you keep on laughing, but you can forget about those chips.” Ryan’s face fell, but the other two shared a knowing look. 

“You can’t just reign us in with a carrot on a stick Doc,” Graham sighed, “we’re not kids.”

“Look Graham, no one said anything about carrots on sticks, you’re clearly just getting confused.” Graham rolled his eyes, not bothering to correct her. “And, for the record,” she declared, “you are so kids, you’re all about a 50th my age.” 

“Yeah,” Clara chuckled, “and you still manage to act like a six-year-old, it’s a marvel.” 

“Oi, no, this is not how this was meant to go,” she said, looking around at all their smirking faces, “no embarrassing me in front of my new friends!” Clara laughed, and the Doctor couldn’t stop herself from smiling back, that contagious, brilliant and too-wide face of the girl she searched for for so long. 

“So,” Clara said, still not able to wipe that smile off her face, “shall I fix you those chips?” 

“Err,” the Doctor hesitated, searching her pockets, “I haven’t got any money.” She grinned sheepishly at the others. 

Clara rolled her eyes. "Of course you don’t, but never mind that.”

“Hold on Doc,” Graham piped up, “I think I have a tenner.”

“No, it’s no trouble,” she insisted, “this is a time machine not a business.”

“But you have food?” Ryan asked, skeptical. 

“Of course, all part of the disguise.”

He looked to the Doctor with an exasperated expression. “And yours is disguised as a phone box?” He exclaimed, “all you get is a phone that don’t even work!”

“And you’d rather we lugged around a whole 50’s-esque American diner would you Ryan” The Doctor asked sarcastically. 

He looked her right in the eyes, dead serious. “Yes.” The Doctor flashed him a teasing look and threw up her arms in exasperation. All four of her friends laughed. The Doctor looked upon them all with a crushing mixture of joy and sadness, knowing what had to come next.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan, Graham and Yaz are left to their own devices. They encounter a second staff member who's a little less friendly than her colleague, and seems to harbour a grudge against the Doctor.

“Ok then, Doctor?” Clara raised her eyebrows, jerking her head back indicating for the Doctor to follow.

“What are you doing with your head there?” She asked, genuinely confused, “are you having a fit?”

Clara groaned and grabbed the Doctor’s arm. She really hasn’t changed one bit, Clara thought. “No, I was asking you to come help me with the chips.”

“Oh, right!” She grinned, letting Clara drag her halfway across the establishment. “You could’ve just said.” She waved goodbye to her companions, all of whom returned the gesture cheerfully - although, Yaz seemed a little bit... off. “Do you really need my help in the kitchen? Don’t you remember the last time I tried to cook something? I really don’t think I’d be much help.” The Doctor kept on rambling until Clara had led her around the counter and out through the door into the kitchens, the strains of another one of her ridiculous anecdotes fading as the door shut behind them - something about a clockwork squirrel. In their newly earned silence, Ryan, Graham, and Yaz shares another of their signature looks of confused solidarity. 

“You think she’ll be alright in there?” Yasmin asked, wanting an excuse to eavesdrop on the pair. 

“Historically, no,” Graham quipped, “but I think it’s best we leave ‘em to it.” 

“I hope they’re actually getting chips though, I’m proper starving.” Ryan looks towards the kitchen door hopefully. 

“Thought that was my job?” Graham chuckled, nudging his grandson on the shoulder. They shared a half-hearted laugh but were promptly interrupted by the sounds of creaking hinges. 

The door at the back of the diner - where one might expect to find a seperate lounge or perhaps the toilets - opened to reveal a young woman in a blue dress and apron identical to the one worn by Clara. At first, Yasmin thought that it was Clara, this girl was of a similar short stature and sported matching dark hair tied back from her face. “Clara-“ the new arrival called, but stopped abruptly upon spotting the three customers seated in the booth. “Oh, sorry, I’ll be with you in just a minute.” This woman lacked the effortless charm and dazzling smile of her colleague. Although she tried to mask it with a hasty grimace, it was obvious that she viewed the customers as an unwanted inconvenience. However, Yaz was more interested in the familiar mechanical humming she had heard behind that back door when it had opened. It seemed that the others had heard it too, because Ryan said “is that the control room? Like, is that where the controls are for this Tardis?” 

The waitress stopped dead. She spun on her heels, wide eyes quickly brought to heed with a nonchalant, intrigued smirk. “And how would you know about that?” she drawled. “If you’re here to steal it, good luck, and -“ she stepped towards them, surprisingly threatening for a young girl in a cutesy waitress outfit - “I must confess I expected better than a bunch of...” she cocked her head, to one side, surveying them. “Well, you’re just regular old humans aren’t you.” She seemed disappointed. 

“Uh, yeah that’s us,” Graham smiled, “regular as they come.” 

“How do you know about the Tardis then?” 

“We came here with a friend in a ship of our own.” Yaz didn’t see any point in being mysterious, this woman was probably just another one of the Doctor’s friends – although she could have sworn the Doctor had only mentioned a pilot, singular. The woman narrowed her eyes at Yaz, so she added “The Doctor,” she looked for a sign of recognition on the girl’s face. Her mouth twisted into an unfathomable expression, something that could have been anything between a disgusted grimace and a friendly smirk. Regardless, her eyes widened in shock that she quickly dampened into her usual slitted glare. “She’s a friend of yours right?” Yaz pried. 

“The Doctor’s here?”

“Yeah she’s back in the kitchens with err…” Ryan trailed off, looking at the other two for support. 

“Clara,” Yaz reminded him.

“Yeah, that’s the one, with Clara.” He nodded innocently at the waitress. 

A sour expression twisted her mouth into a scowl. “Well, he was bound to show up eventually.” She straightened up and turned away, pacing with hands drawn smartly behind her back. “You’re the newest addition to his collection,” it was more of a passive remark than a question. “Wait,” she considered, “you said she didn’t you... grumpy old bastard’s regenerated.” She was mumbling to herself, running ideas through her head in such a way that the thoughts seemed to radiate from her. The Doctor often emanated a similar feeling, but there was something far more cold and calculating on show here. 

“So,” Graham muttered into the silence, “I’m gonna say, not friends.”

She spun around on her heels. “What?”

“Err, nothing,” Graham said hastily, “just seems like maybe the two of you don’t have the best relationship.”

“It’s err… never mind,” she shrugged. “So, you lot have names?” 

“Err, I’m Ryan,” he pointed towards his grandad beside him, “this is –“

“the names Graham,” he finished, smiling cordially. 

“And I’m Yaz. What’s your name?”

“Oh,” she seemed strangely taken aback by the question. “I’m me…” she paused, searching for a word in such a way that her lying was obvious, “eea,” she finished. The others looked back, confused.

“Mia?” Yaz asked. 

“Uh, yeah, why not.” She muttered, promptly changing the subject. “You said you wanted to see the control room?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Ryan answered, looking to the other two for approval. Graham glanced from side to side as if to indicate his suspicion. Yaz simply shrugged and made to follow Mia out the back door and towards that familiar humming of machinery and other-worldly energy. The others trailed along behind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Clara have a little heart to hearts in the kitchen.

“You know, I really miss that clockwork squirrel, too bad it was obliterated and scattered across the realms of time and space along with the whole pot of spaghetti. I learnt my lesson though, I’ve only tried cooking stuff over the intense flaming energy of the Tardis central circuit energy three times since the incident. And, I’ll add, only two of those ended in complete incineration. Well… I say two, the third one was infused with pure vortex energy and would have dismantled the atoms of any living organism it came into contact with, but I’m fairly sure that doesn’t count. Clara, are you alright?” The Doctor trailed off when she noticed the way Clara was hunched over, leant against the checkered tiled wall of the diner kitchen. Usually, by now, she would be making some sort of witty comeback about her reckless cooking methods and inability to be patient and stand still for the time that it takes water to boil – yet now she was silent. “Clara?” She repeated, softer this time, without her usual broiling air of manic, gleeful chatter. 

“I thought I told you to shut up,” she muttered.

“Err, alright then, shutting up.” She shuffled over to stand beside her. She really couldn’t keep still – even now, she was tapping her heels against the tiles underfoot, ruffling her coattails, making idle clicking sounds – she couldn’t help it. “Sorry” – she said, putting her arm around Clara’s tensed shoulders – “I’m not so good at shutting up.” 

“I know, it’s okay,” she sighed, “really, I’m sorry.” She turned her face up to meet the Doctor’s. "I just can't believe it's you." But she knew – of course she knew – she'd known when she'd seen that longing, lonely look on the woman's face when she'd first walked through those doors. She hadn't dared believe it. It was impossible, but she'd spent a long time believing in impossible heroes. 

The Doctor was here, looking at her with that same sad longing, despite the fact that they were face to face at last. “I don’t even know where to start.” She admitted, letting out a nervous chuckle. It was the first time that the Doctor allowed herself to look at Clara – to really look. When she’d first arrived she’d been swept up in the excitement of it all, the desperation and ecstasy of finally, _finally_ finding her again, the ghost that had haunted the spaces between memories for centuries. She was the same as ever. She noticed the subtle rise and fall of her chest, the soft breath that still escaped her for no reason save an ingrained habit left over from a life of which she just couldn’t bring her self to let go. Clara stared back with a similar intensity, one that was searching for the men she had known in the hazel, loving eyes of the woman before her. The Doctor could feel her reliving their times together, all those past faces knitting themselves back together into something new. 

“How long has it been?” she asked. Her eyes were wide and dark and pleading. The Doctor couldn’t help being taken back to another time among the cloisters; Clara Oswald, teary-eyed and angry, _how long?_

A small, sad smile curled the Doctor’s lips. “It’s not important.” For a time lord, she wasn’t one for keeping time. She tended to drift, sometimes still but never for long, never looking back or too far forward. Darkness lurked at such extremities, but the moment was always clear and bright. That time was blurrier than most; she’d spent it chasing lost memories, searching for a face that faded every time she thought she’d conjured its image.  There’d been a quarter-century on Darillium with River, a three-quarter-century sometime after in Bristol with Missy and Nardole, and a great deal of time spent drifting in-between, all of which would come to about “two centuries,” she answered, trying to sound as uninterested as possible, “three at most, but you know me, I’m rubbish at counting.” The Doctor looked away, both to hide her own concern and to break Clara’s unwavering stare, somehow accusing and understanding all at the same time. Clara was burrowing her way into her head, as she always did, where she’d always stay. “What about you?”

“Oh, not as long, just a few decades. I’ve spent more time in this Tardis as a member of the undead than I did alive back on Earth.” She paused, as if stating this fact out loud gave it all the more meaning. The lines were blurring between who she had been as a human and who she could be as an irrefutable fact of existence, hurtling through the vortex in a never-ending chase. "It feels like a different life altogether.” Clara stood up from her position against the wall and straightened up, facing the Doctor. She searched this new face and saw the cheerful young man with steely eyes, who’d sprung up on her doorstep like a raving lunatic and swept her off her feet. She saw the one who came after, who held back his love for her with the youthful mask he’d thrown away, who’d endured eons of torture just to see her again, who’d sat across from her in this very diner with no idea of who she was to him. But there he was, all of them, staring out from behind this new woman’s eyes, and they were sad, but they were immeasurably happy – most of all – they were brimming with hope.

Clara reached up and stroked the Doctor’s cheek, the skin was smooth and youthful – a far cry from the rough wrinkles and hanging jowls she’d come to know. She saw the same shimmer in their eyes, something ancient and benevolent and sad. “When did you remember?”

“I told you,” she smiled, placing her hand around the curve of her waist and drawing closer, “when I regenerated.” All those small, idle movements fell into line. She was completely still, and for once she didn’t feel that insufferable energy spilling out of every nerve. 

“I mean, did he –“ her voice quivered, tears threatening to spill. “You, I mean, when you were him. Is that when it happened?” 

The Doctor let out a small sigh, closing her eyes and casting her mind back to the moment she’d felt Bill’s lips on her cheek and pulled away to see all the mysteries of the universe pulled back from behind the veil, finally answered. She’d been there, that ghostly telepathic remnant, she’d been there by his side as he said goodbye. “I –“ she began, once again meeting Clara’s tearful eyes, “he got to see you, one last time.” 

It seemed she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. Clara buried her face in the Doctor’s coat again, the warmth of her burrowing into the crook of her neck, her hair brushing the top of Clara’s head. “thank you,” she said, voice muffled, “thank you for coming back.” The Doctor clasped Clara against her, looking off into the room beyond yet seeing something completely different; the path of their years together stretching back. The things they’d done for each other, the pain and the joy they’d cause one another – all of it came together in this moment. All of it was worth it a thousand times over just to be here together again. She felt a tear fall down her cheek as they hugged each other tighter. 

Clara was first to break the silence. “Maybe we should get onto those chips hey?” She sniffed, pulling back from the Doctor’s embrace. 

“Yeah,” she smiled back, shoving her hands in her pockets and rocking back on her heels. “Graham gets pretty crabby when he’s hungry, even with my endless supply of custard creams!” 

Clara chuckled. “Right, I don’t even know if I should bother asking you to explain yourself.”

“It’s a risk for sure, but I’ll tell you about it anyway,” she grinned, “like I said, I’m rubbish at shutting up.” She offered her elbow to Clara, who linked arms with the Doctor as they made towards the kitchen bench. Looking up into each other’s eyes, that mischievous grin exchanged between them, they felt as if they were setting off on another one of their adventures. Out of the Tardis, into the universe, next stop; anywhere. They both knew it couldn’t last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To kiss or not to kiss, that was the question when writing this chapter. Initially, it was going to happen for sure, but now I don't know. Maybe a later instalment? Maybe they'll keep it platonic?? idk, their love transcends all classification after all ;)
> 
> Also, a little nod to another one of my fics, [A Mad Woman With a Box (and too many custard creams)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16316288) check it out for extended lore (plug)


End file.
